


The Thing That Calls Him

by Nevermore_red



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Just smut, Mando is Touch Starved, Post Series, Reunion Sex, Smut, That's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21825073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: Omera said her goodbyes to The Mandalorian five years ago, not knowing his name or his face. She'd always known he would leave, but misses him all the same.On a rare evening spent at a nearby cantina, she meets a ruggedly handsome stranger that is oddly familiar.The Mandalorian comes back to the place he wants to start his new life, this time without the protection of any Beskar or helmet.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Omera, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Omera (Star Wars)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 296





	The Thing That Calls Him

Omera had known he would leave, even before she had asked him to stay. She knew a man like him, that lived the life he lived, couldn’t stay even if he wanted to. She consoled herself with the fact that she truly believed he did want to stay. It didn’t make it hurt any less when he was gone. As she watched him disappear into the distance, she said a private wish to the Force that someday, just maybe he would return.

That was five years ago. Omera still thought of him almost daily. Winta still asked about him, and the Child, and together they would talk and wonder about what adventures they had gotten into. But life went on. Winta grew into a young woman, now fifteen years old. It warmed Omera’s heart to see the kindhearted loving soul she was. When there were guests to the village, few and far between though they were, Winta was always the first to help and offer a welcoming. Omera knew she was secretly wishing for the day the Mandalorian would return, but neither of them ever voiced it. It was too fragile, too delicate a hope to put to words.

With Winta becoming older and more independent, Omera found she had more freedom and time for herself. Like tonight. She had gone with a group of people from the village to the cantina not too far away. There was music and drinks and good food. Omera enjoyed herself, relaxing and spending time with her friends and meeting new people that had come from surrounding villages. Leaving the table full of laughter, Omera made her way to the bar to buy the next round. She slipped up next to a man sitting there, leaning her elbows against the bar top and waiting for the woman working to notice her. While she waited, she turned to the man. He was looking at her already and Omera blushed a little. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. His skin was tanned, though not so much as hers, and his eyes were dark. His nose was hooked and jawline covered in a scraggly looking beard that somehow looked good on him. Full lips were framed by a thin mustache and his brown hair was endearingly mussed.

“Hello.” She greeted him politely and he tipped his head forward in response. Something about it was familiar and Omera had to push back memories from spilling forth. “It’s busy in here tonight.” She said for lack of anything better to say.

The man continued staring at her, tongue coming out to wet his lips before they crooked into a small smile. “It is.” He agreed, voice soft and deep. “Do you come here often?”

“No.” Omera said slowly, fighting off the sense that she knew this man. But she couldn’t. She had never seen this face before, and she was very good at remembering faces. “Do you?”

“I’ve only been here once before.” He said, and Omera felt pierced by his eyes with how intently he was looking at her. She blinked a few times, glancing away from him.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Din.” He said, shifting in his stool so he was facing her. “Din Djarin.”

“Oh.” She smiled, liking the sound of the name. It fit him, she thought. “My name is…”

“Omera.” He interrupted her. “I know.” He smiled again, head cocking to the side. The motion was so distinctly familiar, all the subtleties of another man she had watched so closely so long ago.

Her breath caught in her throat and she felt a surge of hope unfurl in her chest. She opened her mouth, breath coming a little too fast, and searched his face for a moment.

“You…” she paused, furrowed her brows and leaned in a bit closer to him. “No, it can’t be.” She laughed, shaking her head at herself. “Sorry, I thought you were someone. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.”

“What?” he so subtly leaned closer to her. “What wouldn’t he do?”

Omera licked her lips, his eyes flicking down to track the motion before looking back up. “He is a Mandalorian. He couldn’t remove his helmet.”

His head tipped again, this time to the opposite side. “I could.” He said carefully. “It just wasn’t the time then.”

A sob threatened to spill out of her mouth, but Omera swallowed it back, pressing her fingers to her lips to hold it in. Tears stung her eyes. He watched her, eyes gentle, as he let the silence stretch for a moment, giving her time to gather herself.

“You came back.” She finally said, letting her hand drop away from her mouth. There was another pause while he thought about what he was going to say. It was something she remembered of him well. That he would always take the time to really think about what he was going to say. He never spoke without purpose and his words were always thought out. Some might think he was slow, but Omera knew better.

“If I’m still welcome.”

Laugher bubbled out of her, and she shook her head in disbelief. “Of course you’re welcome. You’ll always be welcome. The villagers will always be waiting for you.”

He looked down, throat working around a swallow. He didn’t lift his head when he finally spoke again.

“What of you?” he asked. “The village is nice, but that’s not what I would stay for.”

Omera felt her pulse spike up, she reached out and put a hand on his wrist that lay on the bar top. He looked at the point of contact, then shifted his eyes to hers. They were so full of hope.

“What would you stay for?” she asked, needing to hear him say it and this time there was no pause.

“You.”

The barkeep finally made her way to them. Omera couldn’t look away from Din even after she asked if they needed anything.

“A room.” Omera said and smiled when Din’s eyes went wide, a flush covering his cheeks.

“Single bed, I take it?” the barkeep asked with a cheeky tone which they both ignored. A moment later, a key was slid across the bar and Omera lifted a brow at Din. It was his decision; this would be his choice.

He picked up the key and stood. Omera told him to go to the room, that she needed to check in with her friends and would join him shortly. The group all taunted and teased but Omera didn’t wait around to truly hear any of it. Just made sure that someone would check in with Winta and assure her that she would be home tomorrow afternoon.

To get to the rooms, you had to go outside the cantina and around the back. The door was left open a crack and Omera took a deep breath before pushing it open further and stepping inside. Din was standing by the foot of the bed, and both the lanterns on the nightstands were on. Omera pushed the door shut and took a step inside.

“Where is the Child?” she asked. Din smiled at the mention.

“Home.” He sighed. “Yolen was his name.”

“I’m sorry.” She took a step closer to him. “You must miss him.”

Din nodded. “He’s were he’s supposed to be.”

Omera continued closer to him so that she was standing just in front of him, and looked up at him and offered a smile. “So are you.”

Din’s chin dropped, a small smile on his face. There was little space between them, and he reached out with his hand, fingers sliding under her palm and lifting her hand to his face. Looking back at her, he pressed her palm into his cheek, cupping the back of her hand as if she would pull away. Omera ran her thumb along the stubble on his cheek and his eyes closed on a sigh, head tilting into her touch. She wondered how long it had been since someone touched him like this. And then another question popped into her mind.

“Din.” She whispered and his eyes opened. “It doesn’t matter to me either way, but have you ever been with anyone before?”

A blush heated the skin under her hand and he gave her an abashed look, then looked down as he reached for her other hand with his free one.

“Yes.” He said, then lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Not for a long time, though. And never without…you are the first that will see me.”

Nodding, she shifted her hand on his cheek so that her thumb ghosted over his lips. “Have you ever been kissed?”

Lifting his eyes to hers, he slowly shook his head. Omera slid her hand around to the back of his neck. His now free hand drifted down to come to rest on her waist. Pulling her other hand free of his, she placed it on his chest and leaned up on her toes while tugging his head down. At first she just brushed her lips across his, and again. His breath shuttered against her mouth and she kissed him fully, a rush of desire going through her when he let out a groan and kissed her back.

She didn’t know how long they stood like that, just holding each other and kissing. His tongue was hesitant but he followed her lead and eventually was licking into her mouth and tasting her like she was his first drink of water after being in the desert for days. Then his hands were moving, sliding around her waist, running up her back, and then down. Over the swell of her hips until he bent his knees, keeping their mouths together, and running his hands up the back of her thighs until he was grabbing her bottom. Omera moaned into his mouth, pressing her hips into his and delighting in the hardness she felt pressing back into her.

Pulling his mouth away to grab a breath, Din continued on down her neck, beard and mustache tickling along her skin and lighting her on fire. One hand stayed on her bottom, squeezing every now and then, while the other reached up to cup the back of her head so that he supported it when she arched her neck. She could feel his heat seeping through his clothing and hers, warming her skin. And she wanted to feel him. All of him.

Pushing him back just a little, smiling at the utterly forlorn look on his face, Omera reached down to grab the bottom hem of her dress, yanking it up and off, tossing the worn garment onto the floor. Din’s face slackened, eyes widening as he took in her naked upper body. Her breasts were slight enough and the dresses fabric heavy enough that she hardly ever wore a breastband. Then he swallowed, eyes flicking back to her face.

“Your turn, then.” She urged with a grin, motioning to his clothing. His grin was a little nervous, but he reached for the belt he had around his waist, the holster attached that held a blaster and a few hidden pockets that held even more weapons if she were to guess. Undoing it, he draped it over the foot rails of the bed. Lifting each foot in turn, he pulled his boots and socks off before standing upright again and freeing his shirt from his trousers.

“Let me.” Omera stepped closer to him again, reaching up to loosen the laces at his neck and then helped him pull it off. It messed up his hair even more than it had been and Omera giggled, reaching up and smoothing it down. He gently grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands down in a vague reenactment of what he’d done before he left all those years ago. This time, he pressed a kiss to her wrist, tongue sliding hotly against her pulse point.

“The bed, Din.” She panted, knees feeling a little weak.

“In a moment.” He murmured, pressing kisses down her forearm before abandoning her arm altogether and dipping his head to mouth over the upper swell of her breast, a hand sliding up her stomach until he was cupping the underside, pushing it upwards and swiping his tongue over the hardening bud of her nipple. Omera grabbed onto the back of his head, fingers sinking into his hair and holding on tightly, causing him to groan. Not wanting to be outdone, Omera raked her fingers down his abdomen before flipping her hand and cupping the hardness in his pants. He whispered something, something soft and desperate and profane, and then stood up.

“Right.” He nearly wheezed. “The bed.”

Omera pushed him down onto the mattress playfully, and hooked her thumbs into the band of her leggings and underwear, pushing them both down together.

“Omera.” He pushed up onto his elbows, dark eyes roaming her body before coming to rest on her face. “You are very beautiful.”

“As are you.” She retuned with a smile. “But a little too clothed, I think.”

Din laughed, a low chuckled, and it transformed his face completely into an almost childlike adorableness. It tugged at her heart and warmed her belly. Putting a knee on the edge of the bed, Omera leaned forward and worked his pants loose, and then urged him to lift his hips so she could pull them off. His cock sprang forth, fully hard and proud. Omera bit her lip, wrapping a hand loosly around the base of him and stroking upward.

“Come here.” He grabbed her wrist, stopping her petting, and tugged her down onto the bed with him. He rolled them so she was laying flat on her back and he was hovering over her on his side. Before she could realign herself to the new position, Din’s hand was urging her legs apart, fingers dipping into her wetness. Omera moaned, nearly drowning out his hiss.

He touched her with purpose, adjusting and readjusting until he found just the right spot, just the right pace, two fingers inside of her and thumb steady on her nub of pleasure. Omera’s back arched off the bed, cry filling the quiet room, and she came, body shaking and needing more despite the release. Hooking her leg over his hip, she pushed him onto his back and came over him, leaning down to kiss him hard and hot, hands fumbling between them until she had his cock in hand, holding it steady while she pressed herself onto him. Sitting up straight, she sank further onto him, taking him deeper inside of her. She could feel herself throbbing around him, her wetness leaking out and running down onto the mattress. Din grabbed onto her thighs, urging her to move.

“Yes.” She moaned. “That feels so good.”

Bracing her hands on his chest, Omera moved with more purpose, looking down to find him watching her intently. Unable not to touch him, she cupped his face with one hand, rubbing her fingers along his parted lips, gasping when he wet them with his tongue. She cried out, body tightening around him and his eyes rolled closed, jaw clenching tightly as he let out a growl. He jackknifed upwards, laying her on her back and coming to his knees. Holding himself inside of her, he sat back on his heels and grabbed her hips, grinding her against him as he thrust into her. Wanting him closer, needing to feel more of him, Omera hooked an arm around his neck, pulling herself up and coming more firmly into his lap and into his thrusts. Din groaned, one hand on her hip and the other on her bottom as they worked together.

She came again, a rush of more wetness coating the both of them, and Din started to lose his rhythm, small grunts coming from his throat with each frantic thrust until he choked on groan, head bowing into her neck as he spilled himself inside of her, hips lazily rolling into hers as they came down.

Dropping to the side, laying with their heads at the foot of the bed, Din gathered her to his side and Omera draped herself over him. He didn’t seem inclined to stop touching her, and Omera wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever.

“How long have you been here?” she eventually asked after a few moments of relaxed silence.

“Just arrived today.” He answered. “I was looking for a ride to the village when I heard your laugh.”

“How fortunate.” She looked up at him, chin propped no his chest. “I hardly ever come here.”

“Mm.” he hummed. “My things are in my ship. I didn’t…I didn’t want to fly it into the village. I didn’t want to presume.”

Omera smiled, reaching out to take his hand on the opposite side of his body and entwining their fingers.

“Din Djarin.” She said his name, pecking a kiss to his chin. “You and your big heap of a ship are very much wanted. Especially by me.”

“That’s all that matters to me.” He shared her smile.

“Then you plan on staying?” she asked.

“For as long as you’ll have me.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Though I must warn you, I’m no krill farmer.”

Omera laughed, light and happy. So very, very happy. “Neither was I, once upon a time. But I can teach you, if you’d like.”

He looked back at her, the hand that was laying between her shoulder blades coming up to sweep the hair from her forehead.

“Din Djarin, krill farmer.” He chuckled. “That sounds nice.”


End file.
